


IN THE NAME OF THE MOON!

by midnightsnapdragon



Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: ALL THE SHIP!!! EVENTUALLY!!, Adventure, Cress comes in around chapter 4, Crime Fighting AU, F/M, Multi, Sailor Moon AU, second-era but the Lunars are still around, slow burn but it'lll pay off I promise, superhero au, the Hayles are a happy family and nothing is going to happen to them, this is going to be a long story everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12021495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightsnapdragon/pseuds/midnightsnapdragon
Summary: Crime sprees are gaining momentum in second-era New Beijing. The citizens are terrified, the police completely befuddled - and on top of all that, the Lunar Queen is threatening war. Out of these troubling times rise the Sailor Scouts: schoolgirls by day, heroes by night, whose resolve and belief in one another will triumph over any evil.





	1. a normal civilian day (until it's not)

_The overlong Sailor Moon AU that no one asked for, brought to you by midnightsnapdragon._

**ACT I: SAILOR VENUS**

**i.**

She dreamed of a white cat dashing around a summer meadow. To be more precise, it was a gentleman cat wearing a neatly pressed waistcoat, with not a speck of dust on his immaculate pelt. From time to time, he produced a pocketwatch out of thin air and peered at it with worried green eyes. _Oh, dear, oh, dear,_ he wailed, _I shall be late!_ And no matter how much she wanted to stop and talk to him, no matter how loudly she called out, the white cat never waited for her, and she eventually lost him to a haze of blinding sunlight.

Winter came awake gradually, the stick-on stars on her ceiling slowly coming into focus. Early sunbeams filtered through her bedroom window.

That cat had been showing up in her dreams for as long as she could remember. The first time, when she was five, she'd dreamed that she was bouncing around on the moon and he had shown up bearing the national flag; just yesterday, she'd dreamed of sitting in class and taking notes from a giant banana lecturing her on the benefits of dictatorship, and she'd turned to look behind her and found the white waistcoasted cat gazing mournfully back at her. _It's almost time,_ he'd whispered. _The bell will ring any minute now._

She had given up trying to figure it out long ago.

Winter yawned and swung her legs over the bed frame. She stood, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and folded her arms on the windowsill to peer out into the street. The sun was rising in a clear blue sky. Cars were already whooshing past her townhouse, neighbours out walking their dogs, as the city geared up for another mundane Thursday.

It was a morning just like all the thousands of others she'd woken up to for seventeen years. No explosions, no apocalypse, no void of darkness come to swallow them all.

And yet, for some reason, she suspected that this would not be an ordinary day. Some figurative ambush was waiting for her just around the corner. The strings of fate had snapped into place. Sooner or later, this peculiar sense of foreboding would flourish into something … _extraordinary._

Winter turned away from the window and beamed at her reflection in the mirror. _You crazy old headless chicken,_ she thought at herself, _what would Jacin say?_ "Either aliens have touched down on Earth," she quipped, mimicking her friend's baritone, "or Winter is having a bad hair day for the first time in her life."

Ha. No. Aliens would blow up Beijing Tower before that happened.

When she got down to the kitchen in her school uniform, she found her dad making waffle batter by the stove, humming a show tune about going into the woods. She hugged him from behind. "Morning, Dad!"

Evret Hayle made a surprised sound and craned his head back to look at her. "Good _morning,_ Winter. Waffles or pancakes?"

"You know me." She started to pull things for her lunch from the cupboard, but stopped short when she caught sight of the blender. It was filled with a liquid that bore a strong resemblance to gritty tar. She wrinkled her nose. "What's your latest experiment?"

"Blackberry and kale. It's healthy."

"Sure it is."

Her dad gave her a pointed look. Relenting, Winter poured herself a cup, peered inside, and gave an involuntary shudder. The smoothie looked more like extract of rotten prunes than tar, she decided. Not that she knew what extract of rotten prunes was supposed to look like.

She was spared from having to drink her father's awful concoction when her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, already dressed for work. Solstice Hayle owned a seamstress's shop downtown, a small one, and as it had gotten popular lately, she'd started to leave the house earlier and earlier. She was as lovely as ever despite the dark smudges under her eyes from all the late nights sewing quilts and ribbons.

Their eyes met over Winter's cup of health brew.

Solstice raised her brows in a silent question. Winter gave her a pleading look.

Understanding, her mother winked, strode over to Evret and kissed him on the cheek. "Morning, dear."

"Solstice!" He turned to beam at his wife. "Waffles or pancakes?"

Winter held her breath as she watched Solstice pretend to think about it. "What about … crêpes?"

_"Crêpes?"_

"Mm-hmm." Solstice, unconcerned, poured herself a mug of coffee from the espresso machine. Behind the counter, Winter fidgeted with her cupful of sludge, glancing shadily back and forth as she tried to determine how best to get rid of it.

Her father rubbed the back of his neck with the hand not holding the batter-covered spatula. "I don't know. I've never made crêpes before. I could look it up tonight, if you like."

"Evret, you make wonderful pancakes. How different can they be?"

"Well, they're thinner and crinklier. It's a French recipe, you know. I'd have to find –" He started to rattle off a list of ingredients and cooking paraphernalia, but Solstice only rolled her eyes.

"Ah, shh, shh, shh." She swept her husband into a spontaneous waltz, prompting a surprised laugh, and held his spatula hand far away from them both as she sang an old French song they'd heard at the market once. _«Quand on fait des crêpes chez nous, des crêpes chez nous, des crêpes chez nous, ma mère nous invite … quand on fait des crêpes chez nous … »_

They bowed to each other as Winter gave them an enthusiastic round of applause. Solstice noted the impish sparkle in her daughter's eyes and, coincidentally, the purple-black goo pooling in the soil of the fat potted plant in the corner. She nodded to herself in approval. Her husband was a decent cook, but his smoothies would be healthier for vegetables than for people, anyway.

They sat down at the kitchen table while Evret busied himself at the stove. The sound of frying batter filled the air as Solstice picked up that morning's newspaper, crinkling loudly in her fingers. Winter leaned forward across the table, trying to read the headlines upside down.

"Another robbery," Solstice remarked, furrowing her brows. "Yesterday evening."

"Show me?"

Her mother spun the paper around so that Winter could see the photograph splashed across the front page. It was a little blurry – not the work of a crime scene photographer – but it was easy to discern the light of distant streetlamps illuminating the broken display window in a shop, shattered glass strewn all over the sidewalk. The caption read: _Razor Quills Strike Again; Mayor Parker Says "We're Working On It"._

Winter scrutinized the photo. The street shop looked familiar, though it was almost unrecognisable after being vandalized and plundered. Then she gasped. "Wait – that's the vintage dress shop on Sakura!" She looked up at her mother, eyes wide with alarm. "I was there just last week, with Meira!"

Solstice gestured at the article with her sugar spoon. "Read the rest."

Winter looked back down. Soon, she was so immersed that she didn't hear Evret slide two large plates, heaped with waffles, before them, along with a pitcher of syrup and mugs of tea.

_The gang known as the Razor Quills is growing bolder._

_Last night at around ten-fifteen, three masked thieves stole into St. Jude's Gravity Dress Emporium and made off with some of the most valuable articles, as well as the cash box. The Razor Quills' signature feather was found spray-painted on the wall. The shop's alarm system alerted local authorities immediately, but the officers on duty did not come in time to apprehend the thieves. "I am confident that we'll catch them before they do any more serious damage," says Sergeant Detective Sally Donovan, who has been facing increasing pressure to apprehend the gang. "It's just a matter of time." The owner of the Gravity Dress Emporium, however, disagrees. When interviewed, renowned designer Jude Ralph expressed disappointment at the police's lack of progress. "It may be petty theft by their definition," she says, "but if you pull off enough petty thefts, you make a considerable profit. St. Jude's has gotten popular enough to fall on the Razor Quills' radar, so I expect they'll try to sell those dresses on the black market."_

_Mayor Li Parker was not available for comment, but one of his aides told us that he is working toward the eradication of crime rings from New Beijing as hard as ever. Article continued on page 9._

Winter sighed, pressed her lips together, and laid the newspaper aside. Solstice and Evret were chatting with one another – one sipping tea, the other munching waffles – but she let it fade into background noise and mulled over her own rather dismal thoughts.

The Razor Quills had cropped up maybe half a year ago, and ever since they'd been making headlines at least once a month with news like "JEWELLERY STORE PLUNDERED, POLICE CLUELESS!" and "BREAK-IN AT BEIJING BANK; D.I. SAYS NO NEW LEADS". They fell upon wealthy establishments with no warning at all, stole whatever they could, and disappeared a couple thousand pounds richer than before.

As far as she could tell, there were four unsavoury types in New Beijing, ranging from relatively harmless to very, very dangerous. One: the lowlife, as Jacin would have put it – pickpockets, shady black market dealers, the madams and masters of the betting table. Two: the loners, making a living in numerous less-than-legal ways but associating with no one. Three: the gangs built on organized crime, some living civilian lives by day with weapons hidden under mattresses, others hiding out in various apartments mysteriously exempt to tax inspection. And then there were the true menaces – rare though they were, there had been killers in the city before, killers who were never caught. The newspaper stories alone were enough to give Winter nightmares.

In short, New Beijing was home to a thriving, festering criminal underground that alarmed her to no end. She liked to think that she didn't judge the lowlife and the loners, but the whole mess with the Razor Quills bothered her more than she could say, set an itch under her skin every time she read yet another article about the gang's heists and the injuries they left behind. If she could have done something to shed light on the investigation and make her city just a little bit safer … she would have.

But what could she do? She was just a seventeen-year-old girl, and she didn't know the first thing about police work or law or even self-defense. If New Beijing had to have a hero, it most certainly would not be Winter Hayle.

**ii.**

Every day, the walk to school took her through nearly a third of the city – and that was saying something, considering the sheer size of New Beijing. It was a veritable jungle of skyscrapers, apartment buildings, markets, backstreet shops and alleyways. When the sky was gloomy, it became a grim, murky stew, but then there were glorious mornings like these, when sunlight sang off the glass-and-chrome spires and fresh breezes filled the busy streets. It was the kind of day that Winter loved most.

Jacin was waiting for her in the city square, as he did every day. She paused at the edge of the plaza to pick him out from the crowd. It wasn't hard – his pale blond hair was a beacon in the crowd, not to mention the fact that he'd grown very tall in his nineteen years, robust and broad of shoulder. Within moments, she spotted him sitting on the marble bench that circled the fountain in the centre, a sizeable textbook open on his lap.

A fond smile turned her lips and she leaned against the brick wall of a café, watching him from afar. _Jacin, Jacin_ – stern, sarcastic, pragmatic to a fault, and dearest to her heart since a time before she could remember. After a moment, she broke away from the wall and sauntered through the crowd, ignoring the heads she turned, and plonked down beside him. Jacin glanced up at her, with annoyance at first, but it vanished into a wry smile when he saw who it was.

"Hey, Trouble."

She beamed at him. "What are you reading today?"

By way of response, Jacin showed her the cover of his textbook. _The Basics of Medical Training: What You Need To Know Before Starting Med School._

Winter raised an eyebrow at him. She knew this book almost as well as the back of her own hand, mostly because it had been Jacin's second-best friend since he was ten. "This is, what, your fifteenth read-through?"

"Something like that."

"I bet you're on the edge of your seat. 'What's going to happen next? Will the butterfly bacteria be defeated by Doctor So-and-so, or will it triumph over the human race?'" She threw a hand dramatically across her forehead, feigning dizziness. "Oh, the suspense! It's too much!"

She could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "I could say the same about _Secrets of the Solar System."_

"Between the two of us, _someone_ has to keep their head in the clouds."

"You're not even in the clouds. More like … the exosphere."

Winter winked. "And only going further up." She bounced to her feet and beckoned down the street. "Now, up! No dawdling! Time to learn about sinusoidal functions and global warming."

"Heaven forbid they teach you something useful," he said dryly, getting to his feet, and slung a book bag over his shoulder. "Patience, Trouble. Things are bound to get interesting eventually." Seeing her hopeful look, he added, "Maybe on the day you graduate," and his lips curled into another smile at her theatrical groan.

The influx of people around them ebbed a little as they walked. Most of New Beijing's residents had already found their way to their individual workplaces. Solstice Hayle would be at her seamstress's shop by now, sitting at her sewing machine or embroidering a pair of dress gloves. Evret Hayle had an afternoon shift at the museum and wouldn't be home until around nine o'clock that evening.

"Did you hear about the dress shop on Sakura?" Winter inquired as they passed through the shadow of the Phoenix Tower Apartments.

"You mean the robbery?" Jacin wasn't really paying attention. He was struggling to fit the medical manual back into his book bag, which was loaded with textbooks on equally heavy subjects. "Dad said something about it."

She dodged a plump middle-aged man coming out of a sweetshop. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his eyes widen, heard a paper bag of muffins hit the ground, but this effect had become so commonplace that she no longer paid it any mind. "Well, it was the Razor Quills," she informed Jacin, falling back into step with him. "They made off with everything in the safe and a lot of the designer dresses. And the police haven't made any progress at all!"

"Surprise, surprise," he deadpanned.

"It's the third robbery this month," she plowed on, warming up to her subject, "and people are getting hurt. Last time – oh, good morning, Fateen!" Winter waved to the young apothecary unlocking her pharmacy. Fateen whirled, her black braid swinging in a wide arc, and when her eyes clicked on Winter she grinned and waved in response. "Last time one of the burglars broke a bank teller's ankle when she refused to give access. Why hasn't anyone done anything?"

"Maybe the Razor Quills are more intelligent than our police force," Jacin suggested, though it was clear from his tone that he didn't think there was any _maybe_ about it. "The station is so full of idiots, it's no wonder all the smart ones go into crime."

She sighed. _"Jacin."_

_"Trouble,"_ he shot back, in exactly her admonishing tone.

"The police have their hands full, you know. Overflowing." She knew she was arguing against her own point, but needling Jacin was too much fun. "It's no wonder they can't keep up."

"Overflowing or not," he said crossly, "they're not doing their job."

Winter nudged his shoulder, but was momentarily diverted when they passed by her favourite pastry café. "There's Sacha! I think she's opening up. Wait for me, will you?"

"You'll be late," Jacin warned, but she was already pushing through the door. A pretty bell tinkled over her head as, behind the counter, Chang Sacha – an ageing, rotund woman – slid a batch of cookies-to-be into the oven. She straightened with an achy groan, turned to the shop entrance and broke into a wide smile. "Winter!"

_"Good_ morning, Sacha!" Winter grinned and held out her arms. Sacha dusted her hands off on her apron, sending up a cloud of flour, before wrapping Winter into a fond, grandmotherly embrace. When they pulled away, Winter inhaled deeply and gasped. "Are you making starfruit buns?"

Sacha winked slyly. "Come here. I have something for you." She motioned for Winter to approach the counter and deftly plucked a paper bag from under one of its shelves. She pressed it into Winter's hands with a finger raised to her lips. "Now, don't go telling everyone. I get five new wrinkles every time I make a batch of those."

Winter kissed the old woman's cheek. "Thank you, Sacha. Will you come over for tea this Sunday?"

"Not a week goes by that I don't look forward to it." Sacha shooed her out the door. "Now go! Don't be late to school. I can see your young man getting impatient." She winked, making a blush rise to Winter's face.

When she emerged, Jacin looked her over from head to toe and slowly raised an eyebrow. "Why are you covered in flour?"

She glanced down at the front of her uniform, which was dusted with fine white powder. "Oh. I hugged Sacha and she had her apron on."

"Are you sure you didn't fall into the flour sacks again?"

Winter glared at him. " _One time,_ Jacin. You're never going to let me forget it, are you?"

"Nope."

As they walked on, Jacin's eyes darted to the paper bag in her hands. She pretended not to notice as they filled with an almost childlike longing. _Serves him right for teasing me._ Deliberately, taking care to crinkle the bag, she reached inside and pulled out one of Chang Sacha's famed starfruit buns, humming as she took a leisurely bite.

Jacin pressed his lips together. Winter twinkled her eyes at him, mumbling through a full mouth, "Your sweet tooth will be the death of your reputation."

He scoffed and looked away, across the street, as if fascinated with the birds lined up on the electric wires overhead. "What reputation?"

"You know," she said, swallowing, "the whole Grumpy Cat Poker Face thing you've had going since you were five? You'd be ruined if everyone so much as suspected your weakness. They'd start cultivating your goodwill with Sacha's sticky buns and you would be powerless to resist."

"I wouldn't run that spiel if I were you," he said conversationally, "considering the Bakery Bribery incident a few months ago –"

"You ought to be careful, or I'll just have to eat these all by myself."

Jacin assumed his soldierly expression again, as easily as blinking. "You're welcome to them."

With a knowing look she knew he saw, she stealthily slipped the sweets into his school bag, keeping one for herself. She waited until they approached the music and record shop to break off from the sidewalk again. Ignoring Jacin's exasperated huff – he knew exactly what she was about and regularly gave her an earful about street safety and such nonsense – Winter knelt down by the heap of blankets and heat-preserving nylon in the alcove entrance of the shop. "Taz?"

A bearded face peeked out from the top of the sleeping bag and broke into a wide, yellow-toothed smile. "Hello there, miss."

"I brought you something."

"Is it an apple? I haven't had an apple for ages."

"Next time," she promised, and held the starfruit bun out in front of him, tantalizing. "But I'll bet you haven't had one of these for a while, either."

Taz's eyes widened. "Is that …" he whispered, "one of Chang Sacha's starfruit buns?"

Winter grinned. Those pastries were truly legendary. "The one and only."

"Oh my … thanks, miss, that's very kind of you." He cupped the roll in both hands, practically drooling. "Tell that Sir Clay I'm willing to fight him for the rest."

Winter glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, there was a dusting of sugar on Jacin's cheek as he hurriedly stuffed the paper bag out of sight. Smirking, she patted Taz's hand and stepped away. "Sorry, Taz, but it seems the rest has been devoured."

"Finished?" Jacin said coolly as she joined him again. He was trying to look irritated, but the effect was rather spoiled by the pastry powder on his cheek.

Winter bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Hold still." She lifted her fingers to his face and cupped his jaw, brushing away the sugar with her thumb. He froze, caught off guard as it swept by the corner of his mouth, and she could have sworn that he stopped breathing.

"There," she said, letting her hand fall. "You shouldn't hurry with those rolls, you know. What would I do if you choked? Only one of us knows the Heimlich Manoeuvre, and it certainly isn't me."

Jacin didn't seem to have heard her. He stared at her for a moment, almost stunned, before giving himself a shake. "Right. Let's go."

Ignoring her bewildered expression, he turned abruptly and started down the sidewalk at a brisk, soldierly pace. Deciding that it would be best if she left the matter alone, Winter fell into step with him without further comment.

They settled into a contemplative silence. No way to tell what Jacin was thinking – there never was – but Winter's mind had once more fallen on New Beijing's local gangs, the Razor Quills and the Nickel Jackals and all the rest of them. It wasn't just herself and her family she was worried about – what about Sacha, Taz, all those she knew from school, everyone she cared about? What if Fateen's pharmacy was raided one day for narcotics? What if Jacin was pulled into a dark alley on his way back from university and –

Her school was in sight, a double-story building painted white with brick-red shingles. Jacin would walk on to New Beijing University (his classes started at ten) but she still had another year to finish before joining him. Winter hesitated as all her frustration, accumulated over months and months, boiled to the surface. She wanted to tell him to be careful, confide to him the way her skin writhed whenever she read a news article about the gangs' exploits.

But in this one thing, she knew she would get no sympathy from him. Jacin might have been an aspiring doctor, and he was going to make it too, but outside of that he didn't much care about The Greater Good. When she'd first brought it up in the city library during study period, he'd laughed sardonically.

"Something funny?" she'd asked, stung, her pen stalling on the essay she had nearly finished.

"You are," he had said, lips twitching as he returned to perusing the bookshelves. "Queen and country."

Another fifty steps and they arrived at the gate. The wide expanse of grass and shady trees was empty, only a couple of tenth-grade boys rushing up the stairs and through the main doors. It must have been almost nine o'clock. Winter took a breath, about to wish Jacin a good day at the university, when he halted and turned to her as if about to say something.

But he didn't. His eyes roved over her face in a curious sort of way that made her want to bring her hand to his cheek again.

"Yes, Jacin?" she asked lightly, aware that her fingers had begun twitching at her side.

He shook his head. "Nothing." Then, even though it clearly wasn't what he'd wanted to say, he rushed out: "What do you know about binary stars?"

"Binary stars?" She blinked. "Since when are you interested in space?"

"I'm not. I just want to know what you know about binary stars."

_That's his story and he's sticking to it._ It was strange of him to ask something like this, but Winter couldn't resist. "A binary system is a pair of stars constantly in orbit around each other." He nodded, clearly expecting her to go on. "They stay like that for eternity, give or take a few million years, and if one goes supernova or becomes a pulsar, the other is destroyed, too. That's the basics of it."

"Thank you. That's all." Jacin backed away, leaving her at the gate. "Have a good day, Trouble."

Winter frowned, giving him a you're-acting-even-weirder-than-me look, but he had already turned down the sidewalk. "Why the sudden interest in binary stars?" she called after him, dissatisfied.

The school bell drowned out her words.

**iii.**

"Meira, present ... Tashmi, present ... Jael, present ... Winter – where's Winter?"

Miss Haruna was met with blank faces and shrugged shoulders. A few exchanged indifferent glances: how should they know where the crazy old bat was to be found? Eccentric didn't even begin to cover it.

The teacher gave a long-suffering sigh and picked up her pencil. Just as she had put it down to mark Winter absent, the wayward student in question skidded through the door, breathing heavily, her uniform askew, coils of black hair sticking up around her head like individual springs. Even late and disheveled (and was that flour all over her front?) she was still quite stunning.

"Present!" she gasped. Giggles and whispers breezed through the room as she dragged her book bag across the floor to her desk. Not two feet away from her seat, white-haired Meira widened her eyes at Winter in silent warning.

Winter flopped into her seat and turned to face the front, only to find Miss Haruna standing with crossed arms and narrowed eyes on the other side of her desk.

"You are as good as late," Haruna snapped, tapping her foot. "This is the fifth instance in two months – oh, yes," she added upon seeing Winter's vaguely surprised expression, "I have been counting. Care to explain yourself?"

"Miss Haruna," Winter said softly, adopting the eerie cadence of a lullaby, "time has become very cross with me. I disregarded him and in retaliation, he regularly runs forward the hands of my clock. I'm not stuck in teatime or anywhere else, at least," she reflected, ignoring the nervous giggling on the edge of her hearing. "That's fortunate. But I'm always late somewhere."

"Just because we're going through _Alice in Wonderland,"_ Miss Haruna said, quite visibly irritated, "does not mean you get to exploit Lewis Carrol's personification of Time. If I weren't so tired after grading your tests last night, I'd send you to the principal's office."

Winter pressed her lips together and tried to look nonchalant. After the twentieth time some teacher on patrol duty found New Beijing Secondary School's very own mad girl wandering the hallways, having 'lost her bearings' along the way to the office, Haruna had found that it took a lot less energy to just reprimand Winter for her occasional eccentricities and leave the rest alone.

"Next time," said the teacher, turning to the blackboard, "I'll have to call your parents."

Winter flashed a bright smile at Haruna's back. "Understood."

Meira leaned closer, snowy hair falling across her face, and spoke out of the corner of her mouth. "One of these days, she's going to walk you to the office herself."

"Mm … Unlikely."

"Not that I _want_ you to get told off, but why haven't your parents said anything?"

"Turn to page one hundred and nineteen …"

"They've sort of gotten used to it," Winter whispered back, lips curling in a mischievous half-grin. "I'm incorrigible."

Meira rolled her eyes and pulled out her textbook. "Yes, you are."

Winter did likewise, hurrying to open her notebook to a fresh page and uncap her pen without splattering ink. She snuck a glance at her friend before plunging into the lesson of the day.

The snow-white hair ran in Meira's family, as did her pale skin and chilly blue eyes. She looked like the living embodiment of winter, ghostlike in the crowded hallways, and her pallor was only accentuated next to dark, luminous Winter. Not only that, but she was built short and stocky, the baobab to Winter's willow tree. They knew perfectly well that they made a sun-and-moon pair; the irony of Winter's name and Meira's appearance never got old.

As Winter bent over her textbook and started writing the title of the day's lesson across the heading of her lined page, the nose of a paper airplane _thunked_ silently into the back of her head. Her pen skidded across the paper, leaving a smear. Winter glanced up at Haruna, but she had bent over to pick up some broken chalk and wasn't paying attention. She reached behind her, dug the airplane from her hair, and unfolded it under her desk.

Written in a sloppy non-dominant hand was this:

_CRAWL BACK INTO YOUR HOLE, ALICE_

Her stomach tightened. She slipped the airplane surreptitiously into her desk.

At first, she had found her ethereal beauty to be as much a curse as a blessing in this New Beijing high school. There were blushes and stammers all around, and people gave her a wide berth in the halls, as though she were an enchantress or high priestess of old, leaving her isolated. It didn't take long for her to figure out that nobody could be in awe of someone who spouted nonsense in class and hoola-danced through the schoolyard.

Slowly, the alien light everyone saw her in died away, and Winter developed a new, reliable philosophy: when in doubt, act crazy. Lunacy did wonders when it came to distracting people.

Not that she _deliberately_ acted crazy at school. In fact, most of it came quite naturally. What did it matter if she embellished her quirks here and there? Better that they laugh at her for concocted oddities than the real ones.

The bell rang shrilly through the school, and she became aware that her pen had stalled over the paper. The classroom arose into a bustle of students rising from their chairs, metal screeching against the floor, returning notebooks to satchels in a flurry of rustling pages. Winter hurried to join the fray, aware that being late twice in one day wasn't a good idea, no matter the perks of her "mad girl" reputation.

She and Meira emerged from the classroom and were bundled through a thick mush of students trying to walk every which way. Once they left the popular thoroughfare outside their Literature class, the going was easier to the chemistry lab, though they still had to steer clear of girl-clumps coalescing along the walls. Several were chatting excitedly about the annual Commonwealth ball, which was still four months away, in August. Winter counted at least five mentions of Prince Kai's name (usually whispered or squealed).

The two of them were in the middle of an amusing argument about the Queen of Hearts when a small girl burst from the lab-classroom door, clutching her book bag to her chest. Winter caught her by the shoulder as she hurried past. "Rain? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Rain muttered, wrenching away. She dipped her head so her long, chestnut-brown hair shielded her face, but not before Winter saw her tear-stained cheeks, and caught a faint sniffle as the girl turned the corner and vanished.

"What's ruffled her feathers?" Meira muttered as they filed into the chemistry lab. "Rain isn't a crier."

Winter's gaze fell on a towering, curly-haired young man clearing out his work space, and narrowed her eyes a little. "I have an inkling."

The meticulous young man didn't acknowledge her as she meandered up to his workstation. Even when she picked up a beaker and ran a finger around the rim, he only gave her a sidelong glance and went on cleaning up after the lab exercise of the day.

"You know," Winter said conversationally, replacing the beaker, "I don't think I've ever seen her cry before."

"If you want to lecture me, you'll have to be a little more specific," he muttered, striding away to the cupboards. Outwardly, he seemed as unperturbed as ever, but Winter detected tension in his precise movements. She followed him, undaunted, as he replaced a graduated cylinder, an Erlenmeyer flask, and a few pipettes.

"Your chemistry partner, Rain? A rather pretty girl who happens to fancy you?" _Wait – oh, curse you, blabbermouth!_ She'd assumed that he would have noticed, given that Rain couldn't hide what she felt if her life depended on it, but he was oblivious in so many things … "You do know she fancies you, right?"

"Of course I know," he snapped into the cupboard before shutting it with forced calm. "A blind rabbit would see it."

She blinked. "Well, then. Is that why you're unkind to her? Because you don't suffer fools, or whatever it is you say to excuse your deliberate tactlessness?"

The boy rounded on her, his elongated, vaguely alien features set in annoyance – and beneath it, frustration. "I wasn't unkind. _She_ is too sensitive."

"She's human is what she is, and you've taken her for granted one too many times." Winter took a deep breath, surprised at her own vehemence, and lowered her voice; other students were trickling into the classroom. "Was it on purpose?"

He opened his mouth – about to make a cutting retort, as was his usual way. But at the last moment, he seemed to deflate. "No," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to."

She tipped her head at him, considering the evidence. By all accounts, Sherlock was rude, unsociable, and didn't care if he made anyone cry. Surely, he didn't reciprocate Rain's feelings, could never truly appreciate her worth.

But Winter's gut told her something else.

"Apologize as soon as possible," she said under her breath. "If she forgives you" – no need to mention that Rain's forgiveness was practically guaranteed – "take her to see the photography exhibit at the museum. She's been meaning to see it for weeks."

"You meddle too much," he muttered, slinging a book bag over his shoulder, but there was a thoughtful furrow in his brow.

Winter walked him to the door. "Take my advice for once. What have you got left to lose? At this point, maybe you would do better to listen to someone else than trust your own instincts. Goodness knows where they've gotten you."

He gave her a mistrustful look, nodded once, and glided through the door and down the hallway.

Winter dashed back to her own seat just as the teacher strode in through his office door, ordering everyone to grab a pair of safety goggles. As the hustle of scraping chairs and pre-lab chatter filled the room, Meira caught her eye from across the room and raised her eyebrows, as if to say, _what was that all about?_

All Winter gave her in return was a cheeky smile.

As she pulled a fingerprint-coated pair of goggles down over her eyes, she made a mental note to check in with Rain tomorrow. Just in case.

**iv.**

Just after three o'clock, she stood waiting for Jacin outside the gates, keeping out of the way to avoid being swept up in the river of fourteen- to eighteen-year-olds pouring through. Clouds had drifted across the sky, diminishing the heat of the May afternoon. As her eyes roved over the crowd, she caught a glimpse of fair hair and craned her neck to get a better look, but it wasn't Jacin – it was a short girl with waves of burnished gold just past her chin, shoulders curved in on herself, huddling as if there was a chill in the air.

The girl glanced over her shoulder, her sky-blue eyes meeting Winter's for less than a heartbeat –

– and she disappeared in the folds of the crowd.

Winter blinked, a frisson of _déja vu_ running up her spine. She could have sworn that they had never met before, but there was a sense of distant familiarity, as though she was a friend Winter hadn't set eyes on for ten years.

"Where's the gremlin?"

She jumped. Jacin had come to stand at her left, and she'd been too preoccupied to notice. "What?"

He tilted his chin at the ebbing exodus of students. "Normally I'd say 'You look like you've seen a ghost', but given that you would probably invite a ghost to tea if you ever met one, I assume you saw a gremlin or vampire hiding in the ranks."

Winter stared up at him, the familiar look of dry amusement in his eyes, and couldn't for the life of her think of anything snappy to say in return. She looked away, searching fruitlessly for the mysterious girl. "I … no, it wasn't a gremlin."

"Shame," Jacin said thoughtfully. "Would have made the day so much more interesting."

"Isn't that my line?"

"Well, I could wait all day for you to remember it." He followed her gaze as it swept the crowd again. "Are you all right?"

"I … I thought I saw someone familiar." She shook her head. "Never mind. I probably imagined it." She hurried to change the subject as they started on their way home. "Why are you in such a hurry to meet gremlins, anyway? They're mischievous, untrustworthy creatures who will do anything for a lemon tart."

"So are you, Trouble. You'll notice no one leaves food out in the kitchen after ten."

"Ah, but you don't have any proof, do you? Only whispers and vague allegations." She bumped his shoulder playfully with hers. "Tell you what. Holly Hill isn't too far away. Let's have a midnight picnic there sometime this summer. I can stargaze to my heart's content and _you_ can decide for yourself whether I'm a gremlin or not."

"I've made up my mind, thank you."

"All right, then I can teach you astral navigation. You never know when you might get stranded at sea."

"I do spend a lot of time on ships with white sails these days," he deadpanned.

But the idea of a midnight picnic was becoming rather attractive, the more Winter thought about it. Stars, the absence of city lights, grass beneath her bare feet, crickets and fireflies … ah, what bliss!

"I'm serious."

"So am I. Do you know how long it would actually take to get to Holly Hill? I don't have any spare magic carpets lying around."

"We'll take our bicycles." Seeing no glimmer of sympathy in his face, she couldn't help wilting a little. "Oh, come on, Jacin, it'll be wonderful!"

"Getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, wonderful? I think not."

"What on earth do you have against midnight picnics?"

Jacin halted in his tracks just by the corner of a record shop to give her a flinty glower. "I am not going to leave the house with you in the middle of the night, and that is final."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she inquired innocently. Truly, she knew what he meant and that he thought it was no joking matter. But was there ever a greater joy than ruffling Jacin's feathers, if only to get rid of the poker face he seemed intent on wearing?

No. There was not.

"For stars' sake, don't you read the newspaper?"

She blinked, a little thrown off. "Every day."

"Then you should know how dangerous it is to go out at night! What do you suggest we do if a couple of Dime Lions find us alone and decide to have some fun?"

Winter opened her mouth, but couldn't think what to say. She hadn't even thought about that possibility. "Well, I'd … we could …"

"We can stay within the city limits is what we can do," he said darkly. "You know I'd take a bullet for you, Trouble, but I want to go into medicine – not the military. I wouldn't know how to protect you properly."

Jacin certainly knew how to turn a cheerful mood on its head. She clamped her mouth shut and walked beside him in silence, ruminating. _You know I'd take a bullet for you._ Heavyweight words, yes, but there had been no hint of exaggeration in his voice. Jacin didn't do hyperbole.

Eventually, the silence between them – pressed on all sides by the noise of engines and traffic lights and two million people going about their day – verged on awkward. Shaking herself awake, Winter asked Jacin about his classes, and half paid attention as he described their visit to the university morgue, how they'd begun to study various diseases from donated cadavers.

"Cadavers?" she repeated, her interest piqued.

"That's what corpses are officially called, when used for –"

"No, I know what cadavers are. I've been borrowing the lighter of your medical books for years."

This elicited a raised eyebrow from Jacin.

"You know, in case I ever needed to impress your Professor Erland."

The eyebrow rose higher.

"My point is, you've actually seen … dead bodies? In person?"

"Don't get too excited," he said dryly, "I don't believe their spirits were around to introduce themselves."

_That's not what I meant,_ she wanted to say, biting her lip. She found the thought of Jacin splicing open a human body acutely distressing. Still, she couldn't push away her all-pervasive curiosity. "What was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"Seeing a dead human body, of course. It's not something the average citizen does every day."

His voice was humourless. "Think of the frogs you dissected for biology last year." He waited for her to uh-huh. "Now imagine a dead person on the table instead of a frog. Pale, lifeless flesh. Your assignment is to poke around in its innards."

Unsettled, Winter snuck a sideways glance at his profile, trying to gauge whether he was speaking from dispassion or if the experience had truly disturbed him. Jacin didn't seem unnerved, but then again, he maintained a studious, imperturbable attitude in just about everything.

He caught her staring. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, quietly. "Are you going back?"

"Our classes take place there for the rest of the week." He glanced at her just as she opened her mouth. "Before you ask, no, seeing a corpse wasn't a jolly occasion. But bodies are part of the job, dead or otherwise. It's nothing." He switched his book bag to the other shoulder. "Anything interesting on your end?"

"Meaningless pleasantries aren't your strength, Jacin," she said lightly. "But I do have enough social skills to recognise that you're changing the subject and enough tact to go along with it. So. In chemistry we did this crazy thing with copper sulfate, where we stuffed it into a small cantaloupe and waited for it to –"

She was interrupted by several yelps and a few startled shrieks from the sidewalk-goers around them. There was a streak of white across her vision, followed by three passersby toppling like dominoes to the ground, and Winter's head wrenched around just as the white cat vanished into the shadowy alleyway on their left.

An inexplicable sense of familiarity – the same as when she'd glimpsed the fair-haired pixie girl – flashed like lightning through her memory, an insistent yank behind her gut. And this time, she didn't hesitate.

"What was –" Jacin started, but her satchel had already thudded to the sidewalk. He barely scooped it up in time to prevent it from being trampled by the disrupted crowd. Before he could even raise his eyes to the empty spot on the sidewalk where Winter had stood just a second before, the skirt of her school uniform had already flickered around the corner.

The passage was cluttered, strewn with trash, and poorly lit because the buildings on either side blocked the descending sun. Her feet pounded against the pavement as she hurtled through the alleyway after the cat, a graceful, loping shape in the half-shadows. It pelted around the next corner, and she after it.

Right. Left. Dodge a garbage can. Left, left again, vault over a heating box. Another right turn down the length of a long, broad alley between adjacent industrial buildings. Winter's lungs were flaring painfully, the muscles in her legs felt like scrunched-up elastic bands, and she had to call on every ounce of her energy to keep running through the maze of alleyways the white cat was leading her into, deeper and deeper.

She felt as though she was in one of her dreams – except this time, she knew she really had a chance of catching him, to give voice to the questions she had never had a chance to ask. There may not have been a stitch of clothing on that cat or any pocketwatch in sight, but she had recognised him in a heartbeat: her very own white rabbit.

But the cat was far, far ahead of her, and Winter just couldn't run any more. Her heavy footfalls petered out and she doubled over, heaving for breath, in a narrow alleyway between two brick buildings. "Wait!" she gasped out, as her quarry reached the opening to the street ahead. "Please!"

The white cat winked out of sight, leaving her alone on the pavement.

Winter bowed her head and shut her eyes as her lungs slowed their frantic pumping for air.

_Okay. Now what?_

She had no idea where she was. She had no idea how she'd gotten here – the sprint was a blur of corridors and multicoloured walls. Her portscreen was in the satchel she'd dropped at Jacin's feet. She couldn't even hear any cars or people in the distance. Essentially, she was stranded somewhere in New Beijing, and the sun was dipping closer to the skyline.

"Excuse me, miss …"

Winter nearly jumped out of her skin. The white cat was standing in front of her, his head tipped at an inquisitive angle, emerald-bright eyes fixed on hers with unmistakable awareness.

She squinted at him incredulously – it had sure sounded like he had spoken, which was just plain crazy, even for her – but she forgot what she meant to say the moment her eyes fell on the golden crescent moon mark on the cat's forehead, bridging the space just below his ears. It drew the eye like a spotlight in a dark room.

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, just to be sure she wasn't hallucinating.

"Did you ... say something?"

"Why are you following me?" said the tomcat curiously, in a voice like a throaty purr. "I've no idea how you kept up with me, but I really don't appreciate being chased around the city. Declare your intentions, young lady!"

Winter's jaw fell slack. They stared intensely at each other, emerald green and molten amber, the world narrowing down to a young girl and a cat in the middle of New Beijing.

"I know you," she whispered finally.

The tomcat blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"You can talk! You're –" A breathless smile lit up her face as she knelt in front of the cat, bringing them closer to eye level. The gravelly pavement dug into her knees but she barely felt a thing. "You're real. Magic is real. And I'm not crazy!"

"What on earth are you talking about? How do you know me?"

Winter shook her head, squashing an ironical laugh. "I don't know. I … dreamed of you. Over and over, for the longest time."

His green eyes widened. "… Ah."

"You were always rushing off somewhere. You had this pocketwatch and you kept checking it to make sure you weren't late."

The cat sat back on his snowy haunches to gaze up at her. "What's your name, young lady?"

"Winter. Winter Hayle."

"And you believe in magic?"

"Always have."

His whiskers twitched. "Well … that certainly makes things easier."

"I – what do you mean?"

"If you are who I think you are," he said cryptically, "I'll tell you soon enough." He dipped his head to her. "My name is Artemis."

When the white cat looked up at her again, his vivid green eyes pinned her to the spot, brimming with steely resolve. Winter caught her breath. Even though she was the one looking down at him, she got a peculiar sense of reverence, as if she were a knight receiving a command of duty from her king. As though she was on the brink of taking a quest upon her shoulders …

"I've been looking for you, Miss Hayle." Artemis tilted his head. "But I never imagined that I would find _you_ chasing after _me."_

She shrugged. "Why wait for destiny?"

"Why, indeed?" Artemis glanced up at the sky. "I wonder, Miss Hayle, may I accompany you home? Your parents will be getting worried."

Winter opened her mouth to say that she would have asked him over anyway, but when she followed his gaze, she saw with a jolt that the sky was a shade of pale yellow that foretold sunset. Somehow, she'd felt like time had frozen. "Of course, be my guest. But I don't know how to get home. I didn't really pay attention to where I ran. Can you help me?"

"Oh, yes. Of course. I know this city fairly well by now." He narrowed his eyes at the passage behind her, thinking. "But you won't come home in time if you go on foot. Do you know how to hail a taxi?"

"Yes, but I don't have any –" She plunged hand into her uniform pocket, and was flabbergasted when her fingers closed around a ten-dollar bill that hadn't been there before. She pulled it out, bewildered, and shrugged again. "Taxi it is, I guess."

Artemis twitched his whiskers. "Let's go." He bounded off down the alleyway, toward the street visible on the far end. "I don't mean to impose," he added as she hurried to catch up to him, "but would you happen to have any tuna in your kitchen cupboards?"

**v.**

Winter managed to sneak her new companion upstairs, narrowly avoiding her mother as she emerged from the kitchen. "One moment!" she yelled through her bedroom door, shooing a very disgruntled Artemis into her closet, just as Solstice came inside with an apron and a spatula.

"Winter, honey, I was just – oh!"

Winter shot to her feet and assumed a guileless smile, hoping Artemis' white tail wasn't sticking out anywhere. But Solstice was admiring the contraption on Winter's desk – a scaled-down replica of the solar system, complete with Earth's moon and poor abandoned Pluto. She spun Venus on its axis, eliciting a few notes from the inner music box.

"This is fantastic," Solstice breathed, turning to give Winter an amazed smile. "When did you start building this?"

"A few months ago. It took me a while to figure out the gears." Winter felt her cheeks go warm as she glanced at her creation. "It's going to be Jacin's birthday present."

"He'd be a fool not to love it," said Solstice, with a knowing look. Winter suspected that only her mother knew how deep her regard for Jacin went, but thankfully, Solstice never pressed for the truth. She gestured with her spatula to the kitchen downstairs. "I was just on the phone with your father. He's still at the museum and won't be home for another few hours – complications with the guard shifts. You know how it is."

Winter nodded; this was a common occurrence in their household.

"Oh, and Jacin stopped by to drop off your bag. It's downstairs on the couch. He said you dropped it and took off running somewhere?"

"Oh," said Winter, with true relief that Solstice didn't seem to want to know where she'd run off. She probably had Jacin to thank for that – he would have assured her mother that Winter was fine. "Thanks. I just don't know where my head is today."

Solstice smiled fondly, as if to say, _when do you ever?_ "In the meantime, I thought you and I should probably discuss what you're going to do after you graduate. I know you've been looking into universities and things, but have you made any concrete decisions?"

"No," Winter admitted. "I don't know exactly what I want to do yet. I thought maybe psychology … or humanitarian aid …" With a glance at her prized solar system and a playful shrug, she added, "Perhaps I shall become a mad scientist and engineer a giant refraction device to make the sky turn green."

But even as she said it, she knew her habitual philosophy would not work on her mother, or put off important future-related questions. What regularly deceived her high school society would not give Solstice Hayle one moment's pause.

And, sure enough, her mother gazed at her with soft, perceptive eyes, like she knew exactly what Winter was about. It wasn't the first time she'd tried something like this. "But in all seriousness?" she said gently.

Winter sighed, and looked down at her feet. "I have no idea."

Solstice sat down on her daughter's bed and patted the spot next to her. "Any particular area of psychology?"

Winter hesitated, fully aware of Artemis stuffed into her closet not a metre away, and sat down beside her mother. "I was wondering about … mental health."

Solstice nodded encouragingly.

"You know … psychosis. Insanity. All the different kinds, how it happens, how it can be cured. I don't care if it's morbid – it was always incredibly interesting to me, how delicate the human mind is and how easy it is for it to snap, or something to go wrong, either from birth or later on … Maybe it's just a fledgling curiosity, but all the same, I think I might –"

A frantic BEEP-BEEP-BEEP issued from the kitchen downstairs, cutting her off. Solstice sprang to her feet. "The lasagna! I thought it wouldn't be ready for another ten minutes!"

Winter faltered, disappointed, as her mother paused by the door – "Sorry, sweetheart, just let me rescue our dinner" – and hurried out.

A muffled _mew_ came through the closet door. Winter hastily pulled it open, and out marched Artemis, tail twitching with resentment. His white fur stuck up in all directions with static from all the blankets and clothes he'd rubbed against. Winter pressed a fist into her smile.

"That was your mother?" he inquired, leaping up to occupy Solstice's spot on the bed.

Winter crossed her legs beneath herself. "Mm-hmm. Her name is Solstice and she has her own seamstress shop, the best in New Beijing. I think you'd get along, so long as you don't sit on any of her projects."

"Do you take me for a feral cat?" Artemis said, affronted.

"Oh, no," Winter said quickly. "I think you're very, er, well-mannered … the most civilized cat I've ever met. But I'm under household obligation to warn guest felines where they could, potentially, get into trouble or –"

"Winter! Dinner!"

She broke off and called through her bedroom door, "Just a minute!" A little regretfully, she got up from the bed and gave Artemis an uncertain look, reaching for the doorknob. "I have to go. Will you be all right up here? I don't think I can get you anything to eat without having to explain to my mother."

"Never fear, Miss Hayle. I'm sure the opportunity will present itself." She watched him leap off her bed and investigate her room, poking his nose under her bedside table, slinking behind her bureau drawers and out again. He hopped lightly onto her desk chair and, squinting at the solar system contraption, nudged Saturn with a hesitant paw. The planets spun, playing a few bars of lullaby. Artemis's green eyes lit up.

Hiding a smile, she left the room, followed by the faint tinkle of music. He'd be kept occupied for a while.

**vi.**

"All right," said Winter, shutting her bedroom door. She was clad in pajamas and a bathrobe, having made a show of saying good night to Solstice (with a lot of yawning) to make sure she randomly wouldn't walk into Winter's bedroom that night. "Mom is asleep. Did you want a blanket? Shall I let you outside, or ...?"

Artemis appeared to be napping in a curled-up ball on her bed. When he opened his eyes, though – a startling bright green against his snow-white fur – they were perfectly alert. "Take a seat, Miss Hayle. I have something important to tell you."

Feeling like a student called in to the principal's office, she took a seat apprehensively on the bed beside him. Artemis got to his paws, stretched, and sank back on his haunches.

"I came to New Beijing with a mission."

When it appeared that he was waiting for her to say something, she nodded and said, "Okay."

"I'm looking for the Sailor Scouts, agents of justice who, I believe, can make this city safe once again." The white cat peered up at her, gauging her reaction.

_Agents of justice?_ Her interest piqued, Winter considered it and nodded again. "Okay."

Searching her face, as if to make sure that she remembered every word, Artemis went on slowly: "A Sailor Scout's duty involves apprehending gangs, saving civilians in danger, standing up for Mother Nature, and generally fighting evil." He cast his eyes up to the ceiling, going over the list to see if he had missed anything. "Oh, and catching the odd jewel thief. Does that sound up your alley?"

It did, but she didn't have the slightest idea where he was going with this. "So … they're superheroes?"

"You could say that."

"How can they do all the things you said? Isn't it too much?"

Artemis made an indifferent motion of his head, the feline equivalent of a shrug. "Magic."

Well, that made sense. "… okay."

"No. Sorry. It's a little more complex than that." He fidgeted on the bedcovers, settling into a more comfortable position. "You see, a Sailor Scout leads a normal, civilian life most of the time, until they're called upon to pull a child from a house fire or establish peace between feuding families. Then they disguise themselves and charge into battle under a different name. For their own sake, they must not let anyone find out about their dual identity."

Disguises and secret names! A delighted grin tugged at Winter's mouth as she leaned forward, eager to hear more.

"It's a difficult responsibility," Artemis mused, "but a rewarding one too. A single Scout can do what an entire police department cannot, because she works alone, and is capable of more than a detective, spy and judo master put together. When she joins forces with other Scouts, though, they truly become a force to be reckoned with."

Winter was about to ask what marvellous creature could fit that description, but paused as a more significant question rose to the forefront of her mind. "Why hasn't anyone heard of them before? Why aren't they already out there, fighting evil and doing everything else you said?"

The white cat sighed. "Because they don't know who they are."

She blinked and drew back. They both fell quiet as that last bit sank in.

Being a staunch believer in magic and miracles, and having held one-sided conversations with the birds and squirrels of her neighbourhood since she was three, Winter had an exceptionally open mind. If cats could talk, then there might also be agents of justice with borderline superhuman powers scattered throughout New Beijing. But how could it be possible that they weren't aware of their identity? It was almost unbelievable.

Almost.

Artemis watched her chew on that for a while before breaking the silence. "I'm supposed to be their mentor, you see, but I've no idea what they look like or where they live or even what their names are. You see the difficulty of my position?"

Winter pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Who gave you this mission in the first place?"

After a moment, Artemis grudgingly admitted, "I don't know that, either." At Winter's raised eyebrow, he added, "I know my mission the same way that newborn spiders know how to spin webs even when no one taught them."

"I see."

They stared at each other for a moment. Artemis started to knead her bedcovers nervously, claws sinking in and out, as he waited for her to declare that someone was playing a joke on her or simply decide that she was hallucinating.

"Where do I come in, then?" Winter finally said. "Do you want my help looking for these Sailor Scouts?"

Artemis relaxed, retracting his claws. "Actually … I think I may have already found one."

"Really? Who? How can you tell?"

"I have a question for you, first." He waited for her bewildered nod. "Miss Hayle … how do you feel about the recent crime sprees in New Beijing?"

Winter sat up at once. She was aware that he was changing the subject, but he had changed it to her _favourite_ subject – she could put off interrogating him about the Sailor Scouts for a bit.

"How do I feel about it? It's infuriating! I've been following the news – a dozen new gangs and twice as many lone thieves, and the police have barely made any progress at all! Only yesterday, a vintage dress shop got raided … My mom is a seamstress with her own shop, which is gaining popularity. What if the Razor Quills decide to pay her a visit?" Even as the words poured out, she was startled by how fast they came. She'd never ranted like this before. Artemis didn't interrupt her, though, so she took another breath and plowed on. "And my dad works at a museum, and you know those are always popular targets. The security wouldn't hold up against a team of skilled burglars. I'm just … worried for the city, and everyone I know. I don't like that the Razor Quills and the Dime Lions and all the rest of them are getting away with everything they do."

Artemis waited patiently throughout her uncharacteristic tirade. When it petered out, he nodded slowly, as if he'd made up his mind about something.

"If you wouldn't mind," he said, "I would like to try something."

"Go ahead," said Winter, baffled.

"Bend down a little."

She obliged, lowering her head until she was eye-to-eye with Artemis. The golden crescent moon between his ears glinted at her. She still couldn't tell if it was part of his pelt or if was a bald spot. Holding her gaze, Artemis stretched forward until his forehead – and the crescent moon – touched her brow.

Heat flared across her skin. Winter gasped and reared back, clapping a hand to her forehead as a curious tingle snaked down her spine and crept with lightning speed through her chest, as her ears filled with voices she didn't recognize and images of forgotten dreams flashed across her eyes and

– _a blue-and-white planet hovers overhead, swimming in black space speckled with stars_ –

– _running across a bare, crater-studded landscape with the others by her side, heading straight for the twisted monstrous shapes clustered together on the plain; her arms swing over her head, her left hand locking around her right elbow, as she shouts the magic words as familiar to her as her own name_ –

– _a majestic white palace overlooks a serene fountain; Winter sees her own dark fingers dip into the cool water, and her vision snags on a tiny orange ember in the reflected sky_ –

– _fire and ashes fill the heavens and she is screaming in fury and despair, her sisters aren't by her side anymore, they're gone, they're all dead and she alone stands between that monster and the end of all things and oh gods she can't breathe_ –

– _pale hair falls into her eyes as he bends over her, frantic, trying to press a heartbeat back into her chest. His ice-blue eyes are not cold at all, she sees that now. Beneath the chilly exterior, the wall he constructed to keep her out, is the beating heart that she recognized so long ago, the heart he only now lets her see because she won't last another minute_ –

She staggered off the bed and straight into a wall, her head cracking painfully against the wide mirror. Vertigo clutched at her, flipped everything upside-down, and it was a moment before Winter realized that she'd lost her balance completely and collapsed to the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her face in the dark crook of her arms.

A soft paw prodded her back. She flinched. "Winter? Miss Hayle? Ah, stars, I shouldn't have unloaded it all so quickly …"

Against the darkness of her eyelids, she saw the flames again, the furious, malevolent flames, eating away at the once-white palace – the embodiment of all that was peaceful and serene. She saw Jacin's soot-stained face, contorted into anguish as he hovered over her, and she knew that she must be dead or dying for him to look like that. _Jacin, Jacin_ – why was his face amid all the visions that had assaulted her?

A furry head butted against hers, gently. "Miss Hayle, please … I'm sorry, you shouldn't have seen everything all at once. Are you all right?"

She propped herself up on trembling arms, then pushed herself up until she was leaning against the wall. Only then did she dare open her eyes, fearing that her bedroom would be swirling as violently as before.

But the dizziness seemed to have passed. Her bedroom was exactly as it had been a moment before, the bedcovers no more wrinkled than usual, the planetary contraption still gleaming under the desk-lamp. The house was silent, so her mother must have been too deeply asleep to hear her crash to the floor. Nothing had changed.

Except for _everything._

Winter looked down at Artemis with more than a little bit of fear. What had he done to her?

"Miss Hayle," he told her quietly in that low feline growl, "what you saw just now were glimpses of a past life."

Later, she would recall this hour in vivid detail and do a double take at Artemis's words, but with sensory overload clouding her thoughts, she barely heard him. She gulped and tentatively brushed a hand against her forehead. The skin felt smooth, unblemished, and yet it had burned upon contact with the crescent moon. With great difficulty and much wobbling, she got to her feet and, keeping one hand on the wall for support, inched over to the wide mirror above her bureau. She stared into her own wild amber eyes, before brushing aside the black curls that had fallen across her face.

On her forehead – shimmering slightly when she turned it to the light, barely visible – was a symbol.

"Do you see a mark?" Artemis' voice came from behind her, urgent now, as if he'd forgotten his initial concern. "What does it look like?"

A circle on top of a plus sign, imprinted in gold dust on her dark brown skin. It was no more than two centimetres long and across, small enough to go unnoticed unless you were really looking for it.

"The symbol of femininity," she murmured, too stunned to do anything more than stare at her forehead in the mirror. Her eyes roved across her face, searching for other changes, other minor shifts that would make her own reflection unfamiliar to her. But her face hadn't changed at all – high cheekbones, full lips, a pert, rounded nose. She was still very much herself.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, leaping up onto the bureau in front of her. His ears were pricked with anticipation, the emerald jewels he had for eyes alight with what she could only describe as glee. "Light and beauty. How could I not have seen it before?"

Winter tore her gaze from her reflection and frowned at him. "Artemis, what are you talking about? What did you _do?"_

The white cat fixed his steely gaze on her. "This will come as a shock. Perhaps you won't believe me at first, and it may take a while for you to accept it, but you must hear me out to the very end. Promise me."

Rather entranced, Winter nodded.

"All right," Artemis said. "Listen to me very carefully …"

Alas, she wouldn't get to hear his explanation for a while yet. Because at that very instant, the symbol on her forehead came to life in a blaze of heat, making her cry out and spin back to the mirror. When she pushed her hair away, she saw that it was glowing gold. Artemis looked up at her reflection and promptly _hissed._

"What's happening?" Her voice went high-pitched, strained with panic.

He shook his head vigorously. "I am so very sorry, Miss Hayle. I thought I would be able to prepare you first, but there simply isn't time. You have to transform!"

"I have to _what?"_

"Just trust me! Put a hand in the air and shout, _'Venus power make up!'"_

This day had already gone too far into the ludicrous for her to turn back now. Resigning herself to whatever fate had planned, Winter threw a hand out above her head and cried, _"VENUS POWER MAKE UP!"_

And vanished in a whirlwind of light.

***-***

_Please review._


	2. magic, madness and sheer dumb luck

**i.**

It was over in seconds.

She spun like a spinning top, eyes squeezed shut. The momentum threw her arms out, flung her head back. Bright yellow flowers bloomed against the darkness of her eyelids; streams of stars enveloped her in light; hundreds of little spotlights _zinged_ across her skin and left it sparking with energy. She had the distinct impression of being lifted high into the air, higher than her bedroom ceiling would have allowed –

And then everything fell still.

Winter swayed dizzily on her feet, not daring to open her eyes. She was planted on firm ground. Hadn't she been whirling like a leaf in the wind, just a moment before?

Cautiously, she squinted through one eye and then the other, not knowing what to expect. But she was standing upright in the middle of her bedroom as if nothing had happened.

Artemis, who had lifted one paw to shield his eyes, lowered it and looked her over from head to toe with satisfaction. "As I thought," he growled, leaping up onto the windowsill. "A little graceless, but that's nothing. The first transformation is always turbulent. You will learn to control it in time."

She gawked at him, utterly speechless. _Venus Power Make-Up_ – the magical words that had triggered … whatever that had been. She lowered her arms from their transfixed position above her head and froze.

They were decked out in white, elbow-length gloves.

Winter's eyes grew as wide as saucers as she looked down at herself. Her pajamas were gone. In their place, she was wearing some kind of sailor suit ensemble – a slim-fitting white leotard with a large golden bow planted on her chest, and an oversized collar of the same cobalt yellow draped over her shoulders. She craned her neck and caught a glimpse of an identical bow on her lower back. Her feet weren't bare anymore, but wearing yellow slippers of a mid-high heel, secured with a strap around her ankle.

Her open mouth curved into a smile of amazement. _Will wonders never cease?_

"Miss Hayle, if you would be so kind as to give me your full attention," Artemis began.

Barely suppressing an ecstatic laugh, she twirled, and a pleated golden skirt flared around her hips, leaving her legs bare from mid-thigh down. Everything, from the leotard to the shoes to the skirt, left her as free to move as if she had been wearing nothing at all.

"– you have very little time, you must _listen_ –"

Letting her fingers drift over the back of her head, she found that her mass of curly hair was held back by a third bow of the same golden-orange hue. She turned, stepped closer to the mirror, and wonderingly touched the tiara that had materialized on her brow. Her eyes and cheekbones were masked by a copper domino that transformed her own reflection into a stranger.

"Miss _Hayle,"_ Artemis snapped. His tail was lashing back and forth with irritation, his green eyes mere slits as she turned to face him. "Do you believe me now?"

"About the Sailor Scouts?" She laughed out loud and twirled again. "When you said that they disguise themselves, I didn't think it was like _this!_ I didn't –" She shook her head, sobering a little as the full implication of her transformation became clear. _A Sailor Scout's duty involves apprehending gangs, saving civilians in danger, standing up for Mother Nature, and generally fighting evil … does that sound up your alley?_ "I didn't think you meant … me."

"Of course I meant you," said Artemis. "You love this city like your own family. You worry about every citizen living under threat of crime. You are Sailor Venus, Soldier of Light and Beauty, and it's about time that you awakened!"

Winter's breath caught in her chest.

_Soldier._

Not just a title – a name. The weight of a legacy she couldn't yet fathom.

_Sailor Venus._

Her eyes must have lit up, because when Artemis spoke again, his voice was graver than ever. "Somewhere in New Beijing, a crime will be committed. Tonight. As an agent of justice, it is your duty to prevent it from happening."

"Wait," she protested. As excited as she was, she would have liked some time to wrap her mind around her identity as a "Sailor Scout", when less than a minute ago she'd thought of them as almost a separate species. "What crime? How am I supposed to stop it?"

"The distress signal will guide you to the place where it'll happen, but I don't know any more than that."

"But – but I don't know what to do!"

"What is there to know?" he said impatiently. "Follow the signal, track down its source, and stop the crime. You're a clever improviser, judging by your impressive pursuit of me through New Beijing. Consider it a trial by fire."

She swallowed. "Are you … are you coming with me?"

"You head on without me. I'll catch up at some point. Cats are faster and more flexible than people, but you still have better stamina." He motioned with his tail to the window. "Now _go!_ There is no more time!"

Winter exhaled in frustration. It seemed that all the questions crowding her mind would have to wait. She reached for the window-latch and pushed at the glass panes. As if enchanted, the window swung open without a sound.

"Oh, and Miss Hayle?"

She looked at him, fingers stalling on the window-sill.

"When in doubt," said Artemis, his eyes glinting, "point at your enemy and shout _'Crescent Beam!'_ Got it?"

She nodded, her gaze shifting from the cat on the window-sill to the wide mirror, her own sailor-suited reflection.

At first sight, the entire array looked fit and feminine, like something a ballerina might wear onstage. It took another once-over for her to notice the firm hold of a chest protector, the shoulder pads, how lightly and easily she moved in these clothes. It was not dancer's garb at all.

It was a battle uniform.

"What if I mess up?" she murmured, staring into her own amber eyes. Was she strong enough for this? Was she even capable? She was uncertain of what, exactly, she was supposed to do tonight, but she knew enough.

Restore justice.

Make her city safe again.

Wasn't this what she wanted?

Artemis gently butted his head against her shoulder. It felt less like the affectionate rub of a pet cat than the comforting touch of a mentor. "I believe in you," he said. "You have to believe in yourself, too."

And with that, Winter nodded and clambered out the window, leaving her civilian life behind.

**ii.**

Running through New Beijing after sundown had to be the most nerve-wracking thing she'd ever done.

Not that she had never gone out at night before – there was the occasional nine o'clock visit to an ice cream diner with Meira, and of course she went to the Commonwealth ball every year, which usually stretched past midnight. But until Winter clambered to the ground from her bedroom window and found herself standing alone on the dark, empty street, she had never thought about how _safe_ the city felt when there were two million people going about their lives all around her.

Nerves tingling, she drew in a steadying breath and took off.

The pulsing symbol on her forehead seemed to know where to lead her, a sort of keening electrical whine that plucked at her sense of direction. After a few wrong turns that made the distress signal fade, Winter managed to get the hang of trusting her instincts whenever she came to an intersection. The pulse grew in strength as she slowly made her way into the heart of the city.

She stuck to alleyways thick with shadows, darting around street-corners like a thief, and broke into a sprint whenever there was no one around to see. Occasionally a couple of wandering passerby turned into her street and she either had to retrace her steps or duck behind the odd garbage bin or newspaper stand.

It was only when she rounded the last corner and emerged into the sprawling central plaza of New Beijing that the distress signal went quiet. The plaza was deserted, ringed by streetlamps that cast a harsh orange glow over the empty stretch of cobblestones before her. It was deathly still but for the burbling fountain in the centre, where she had met Jacin only that morning.

Winter jogged to a standstill, breathing hard. The symbol had ceased to pulse, the trail gone cold, but it had led her directly to the plaza – she was sure of it.

_Now what?_

She rested her hands on her hips and blew away a curl that had come loose from the ribbon. Come to think of it, Artemis hadn't given her very much information …

The plaza was in the dead centre of New Beijing, ringed by four large buildings: City Hall, the museum, the post office, and the stock exchange. A crime would be committed in one of them tonight. But which one?

She glanced once over her shoulder before creeping along the buildings' front faces, racking her brain. Where were they most likely to be? Nothing to do in the post office, surely. She gave its brick wall a pat for good luck. City Hall had nothing to offer a gang focused on theft and riches. That left the museum and the stock exchange.

Balance of probability? The museum was safe haven to hundreds of artifacts and precious gems and valuable documents. It was only a matter of time before some gang or another tried to raid it.

She skirted the plaza, too uneasy about running flat-out for the entrance – and then something occurred to her that knocked caution from her head: _her father was still at the museum._ Solstice had told her, hadn't she, that his shift had been extended well into the night? He might still be inside when the crime took place.

Winter halted in her tracks, a horrified choking sound caught in her throat, and stared up at the pillared entrance of the museum, the banner too far away to read in the darkness. If it was a lone burglar, the museum guards would be fine, but if it was a gang …

Evret Hayle might be in danger.

Throwing caution to the wind, she sprinted directly across the plaza, the slippers _click-click-click_ ing against the cobblestones in the unnerving silence. She took the steps two at a time and burst through the front doors, half expecting a dozen black-clad thieves to be waiting for her inside, guns cocked like mobsters from a film.

But the shadowy vestibule of the museum was as still and silent as the grave. Marble floors, soaring ceilings, a large chandelier suspended dead centre from an iron chain. Two staircases spiralled away from the end of the hall, one on each side, and between them was a balcony from the second floor. Directly above Winter, hanging from the ceiling, was the same dark blue banner that hung on the pillars outside: DEEP SEA EXHIBIT; SEPTEMBER ONLY. It would have felt tranquil if Winter's pulse hadn't been pounding in her ears, her hands clenched and thrumming with adrenaline.

The floor was polished marble; her heeled slippers sent piercing echoes up to the high ceiling as she walked forward. Thanks to a hundred museum visits, she knew this place inside-out – every exhibit, corridor and stairwell. And she knew exactly where the jewels were to be found: in the east wing of the second floor, through the Rocks and Minerals exhibit.

"There," she whispered to herself, and took off up the staircase to the right, praying that the burglars would do the cliché thing and go after what sparkled.

**iii.**

Unfortunately, she hadn't thought about what she'd do once she actually came face-to-face with any robbers, because once she rounded the corner into the Rocks & Minerals corridor, that was exactly what happened. Two masked, black-clad thugs were stationed on either side of the entrance to the exhibit, hands resting casually on the pistols hanging from their belts. Winter stopped dead, but too late: she was already in their line of vision. Alerted by her footsteps, they turned to look and their eyes fell on her.

The pistols were halfway out of their holsters before she could even blink. But instead of drawing them or advancing or even issuing a threat, they both just stood there and stared at her, in all her ribboned, sailor-suited glory. Winter, paralyzed by sudden terror, stared right back.

Finally, one of them spoke up. "What are _you_ supposed to be?"

She felt a hysterical laugh bubble up her throat. If her getup was good for nothing else, it was good for baffling her enemies. She had precisely two seconds to come up with something before they got over their bewilderment and made quick work of her. But she had nothing to go on, no fighting experience, no plan, _nothing_ – nothing except her lifelong philosophy.

When in doubt, act crazy.

"Evening, gentlemen!" she said blithely, giving them a dazzling smile. "I was looking for the Outer Space exhibit and seem to have gotten turned around. Could one of you point me in the right direction?"

One of the guards leaned close to the other and muttered something that sounded like, "Who's this crazy broad?"

"My boyfriend was supposed to meet me here, but he walked out on me." Winter pouted, stomping her foot for effect. _They're going to shoot. Oh, stars, they're going to shoot._ She brightened, as if a brilliant idea had occurred to her. "Wait a moment. One of you gentlemen could accompany me, couldn't you? You wouldn't let a lady go all alone?"

The black-clad guards exchanged a glance. By mutual agreement, they started to lift the pistols from their holsters.

 _"I'm alooone,"_ she warbled, teetering closer. _"On my own … there's no one here besiiiiiiide meeeee …"_

"Miss Hayle!"

A loud _thud_ resounded through the corridor as the gun fell from the first guard's hand. The other gawked, making an incoherent spluttering sound as his mental synapses misfired.

Winter glanced down and nearly wept with relief. "Artemis –"

"Use 'Crescent Beam'," hissed the very breathless-looking white cat by her feet. "Now!"

"What?"

 _"'Crescent Beam!'_ Shout it out loud!"

On any other occasion, Winter would have protested. She would have absconded, or pinched herself, or laughed at the notion of yelling a random phrase and hoping for the best.

But she had no other way out.

She gathered a huge breath and yelled at the top of her lungs, "CRESCENT –"

– instinct guided her hands as they swept above her head, gathering light – she lowered her right arm to point at the second guard, who was still armed, the other hand clasped to her elbow –

"– BEAM!"

The dark museum hall was momentarily illuminated as a brilliant ray of light shot from her fingers and into the guard's eyes. He gave a cry of pain, collapsing to his knees and covering his face with black-gloved hands. His comrade squawked and scrambled for the pistol he'd dropped, but had hardly touched it before Winter redirected the light and blinded him, too. He clutched at his eyes and fell against the wall, whimpering.

An electrical tingle still running through her arms, she leaped forward and snatched the pistol from the floor – more because she knew that was what she ought to do than because she actually knew what to _do_ with it. She stood there for a moment, breathing hard, looking at the hideous thing – the death and destruction in her hands.

 _What am I doing?_ She could never wield a gun.

She was about to put it down when she felt a gloved hand scrabbling at her ankle. A single pulse of panic shot through her and before she knew what she had done, Winter slammed the butt of the pistol into the guard's temple. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Later, she would realize that she should have been worried about the other guard, who was still conscious although temporarily unable to see. It was fortunate that the powerful shaft of light she'd shot at him had actually fried his synapses and he was in no position to take advantage of her turned back, because all she could do was stare aghast at the man she'd stricken down, and then at the weapon in her hand. They had inflicted violence on another human being together. She flung it aside.

"Miss Hayle!" Artemis whispered urgently. He leapt over the first guard's prone body and trotted up to her, his snowy pelt fluffed up with fright. "Into the exhibit, quickly!"

Winter swallowed, nodded, and tiptoed up to the arched doorway. Thoughts of the unconscious guard's masked face as he dropped stone-cold tried to shoulder their way to the forefront of her mind. She pushed them back, but then something made her pause and rethink it.

"What are you doing?" Artemis hissed as she ran back to the unconscious guards. "You need to stop the – oh." He watched as she ripped away their masks, checked the belts and boots, pushed up a lower sleeve, and went still.

Inked into the man's russet skin was a long feather, its tip sharpened to a serrated, deadly-looking point.

She looked up at Artemis. Her own fear and dismay were reflected in his jewel-like eyes.

"The Razor Quills," she whispered. "The Razor Quills are here."

Artemis' ears flattened against his head. "All the more reason to hurry before they accomplish anything."

Winter closed her eyes, a hundred different newspaper headlines flashing across the darkness of her eyelids: _Theft of Blue Carbuncle Leaves Two Dead – Deadly House Fire, Razor Quills' Revenge –_

Would she end up as another one of those awful headlines? Would her name be on the list of tonight's casualties? Her dad's name?

Her eyes snapped open.

No. No, they would not. That was why _she_ was here – an agent of justice who had the power to stop whatever crime was going to take place tonight. She could rescue her father. She could thwart the Razor Quills and make sure that they never graced the pages of New Beijing's newspaper again.

She made herself rise to her feet and step toward the exhibit entrance, but it wasn't a moment before she realized Artemis wasn't following her. She glanced back at him. "Aren't you coming?"

The cat gave a single, apologetic shake of his head. "This is your first mission, Miss Hayle. You must not lean on me in order to prove yourself. From now on, you're on your own."

She pressed her lips together, trying to push away the resentment that rose up in her. It would be a long while yet before she deciphered the mind of this mysterious cat.

So she drew in a breath, steeled herself, and stole into the gallery on her tiptoes.

**iv.**

The Rocks & Minerals Exhibit was enormous. And not _holy-cow-that's-a-lot-of-rocks_ enormous – more like _is-it-just-me-or-is-the-museum-bigger-on-the-inside?_ enormous. It was made up of three square rooms, each smaller than the last: the first dotted with neat rows of rock specimens enclosed in glass cabinets; the second about the size of an office banquet room, containing semi-precious stones; the third a small, dark chamber not unlike a spaceship cockpit, designed to show off and safeguard jewels. In the very centre of the viewing chamber was a cerussite whose brilliant fire surpassed that of any diamond. Dubbed the Light of the Desert, it was the pride and heart of the museum.

Naturally, the Razor Quills must be here to steal it. Or all of the precious gemstones in the third room. It was only a matter of time, Winter supposed; the amazing thing was how long they'd waited to put this heist into motion.

She raced through the gigantic hall of rocks and minerals, the glass cases blurring in her peripheral vision. When she reached the entrance to the second room, she peeked around the door frame, confirmed that it was also empty, and slipped inside. A low murmur of voices reached her ears from the dark doorway ahead, which led to the third and smallest room. She stuck close to the walls and edged along, heart hammering.

The Razor Quills must be in there with the precious gems. She had the stupid thought that they were breathing the same air that she was – a criminal gang that wasn't above arson, hostage and murder. And she couldn't even bring herself to squash spiders. What was she going to do, 'Crescent Beam' them all into submission?

After what felt like eternity, she made it to the end of the second room and crept up to the steel door frame of the dark viewing chamber. And then – she nearly tripped over something, but thankfully caught herself on the wall before she could crash to the ground and make a racket. She glanced down, pulse skipping erratically, and found a bulging burlap sack at her feet.

Crouching, she peeled back the folds of the sack, and her mouth fell open.

A veritable rainbow of precious stones was inside. Opal, pearls, turquoise, jade and diamonds, each one cut and polished to shining perfection. The rest of the sack was stuffed with foam padding.

The Razor Quills had already plundered the third chamber. She was too late.

But then – why were they still inside? Why hadn't they run off with their spoils yet?

Hardly daring to breathe, she stood and peeked around the door frame.

For one terrifying moment, all she saw was blackness and moving shadows. Then, as her vision adjusted, she was able to make out five figures clustered around the glass case in the centre of the chamber. One was crouched at its wooden base, fiddling with the locking mechanism, the others standing in a circle around him, and by the tense set of their shoulders, Winter could tell that they were getting impatient.

"How much longer?" one demanded. It was a lithe, muscular figure with an authoritative posture, suggesting that he was the leader of this little group.

"I can't figure it out," muttered the crouched lockpick. Winter heard some sort of metallic _shiiink,_ and feared that he'd gotten it open, but then he sat back on his heels with an angry huff. "It's more complicated than anything I've ever done."

Ah. Of course. They wanted the cerussite, too; there was no way they would leave without the coveted Light of the Desert.

"I _specifically_ brought you along, Po, because I thought you would be capable –"

"I am capable! But they must have designed a unique lock specifically for the cerussite, because I don't recognize the model, the inner workings have at least five layers, and … well, if you want my opinion –"

The lithe man snorted. _Definitely the leader._

"– it would be a whole lot easier if we could just get the key."

"We don't have all night to search for it," said a cool feminine voice, belonging to the slender figure on the leader's right. "It could be anywhere, in the administrative offices, in the receptionist's desk …"

"Ask one of the guards," suggested a buff, broad man, gesturing to the back of the room. Winter peered into the gloom again and was only barely able to make out a row of crouched figures, gagged and bound, their gray uniforms blending into the wall.

Her heart sank. The Razor Quills must have found every last guard patrolling the museum tonight. Clearly they weren't taking any chances. She squinted through the darkness, trying to make out the guards' features, but she couldn't tell if her father was among them.

One thing was certain: she wouldn't have any help tonight. She alone stood between the Razor Quills and the theft of these jewels. What could she do, though? There was no way one sheltered city girl could take on five thugs from the criminal underground, even with that handy Crescent Beam trick under her belt.

There was no other way out. She'd just have to take the jewels and run.

"Right," said the lady thief, strolling across the small chamber and crouching in front of the guards. "I suppose we can start anywhere."

With one smooth motion, she yanked the gag off the nearest one, and placed a finger to his lips when he drew in a breath to shout for help.

"Oh, no, darling," she purred. "None of that. I'm sure you know what kind of situation you're in. They didn't train you to be stupid and defy a captor, did they?"

A pause. It was very, very fortunate that the other burglars were focused on the guard as well, or they would have spotted Winter peeking around the doorway if they'd only deigned to turn around.

"I see no reason to hurt you or your fellows," Ladythief went on, stroking the guard's face, "if you give us what we want. Where is the key?"

"I don't know," gasped the guard. "I'm in Ancient Artifacts."

Winter sagged a little against the wall. The voice was not her father's.

"Check his badge," the leader ordered. Ladythief shone a flashlight on the guard's chest, briefly illuminating his ID tag, and clicked it off with a nod. He was telling the truth.

"Next," said the leader.

Winter, finally realizing the vulnerability of her position, turned around and out of sight of the Razor Quills. She needed a strategy – something, _anything_ beyond simply fleeing with the jewels. Because there was no doubt that once she started running, there'd be no point to stealth, and it would only be a question of whether she could outrun five thieves who wanted what was in her hands.

Then it came to her, the smallest inkling of a plan. There was a staff room on the second floor – it had to have a phone. She could call the police and stash the sack of jewels somewhere the Razor Quills wouldn't find it. She'd just have to get to the phone before _they_ got to _her._

"Bingo!" A feminine cackle. "Here's the one who patrols the Rocks & Minerals exhibit!"

Winter bent down and gathered the sack strings in her fist, about to heft it up and tiptoe away.

"No – I swear, I don't know anything –"

She fell still.

It was Evret Hayle.

Her father was there, in the room behind her, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Her father, held at gunpoint.

She couldn't breathe.

"You're lying," Ladythief said softly. Winter squeezed her eyes shut, picturing the witch's nails trailing along her father's jaw. _Don't touch him. Don't hurt him. Please, please, please._ "Don't think we don't know who does what around here. You know, and you will tell us. Or we will shoot your fellows one at a time, for every wrong answer you give."

 _I'm here, Dad,_ she wanted to cry out. _I'm here, I love you, I'm going to get you out of there._ But as much as she wanted to blindly charge inside like a schoolgirl hero and fight the Razor Quills one-by-one, she couldn't. The only thing she could do was get to the phone and call the police. Her plan was barely formed, her courage scraped up from the half-belief that this was a dream, but it was all she had.

_Take the jewels and run._

She lifted the sack, but not carefully enough: the purloined gems inside _clinked_ against one another. The voices inside the chamber fell silent.

She froze, her heart in her throat.

"Who's there?" the leader's voice came smoothly out of the dark.

"Nobody," she gasped.

Out of the darkness came an ominous _click-click._ Winter didn't have to be an experienced crook to know that it was the sound of a gun being cocked.

"I'm confiscating your loot," she choked out, and bolted into the exhibit behind her.

**v.**

Before, it had taken her nearly a whole minute to sneak through the entire Rocks & Minerals gallery, sticking close to the walls and trying not to make a sound. She'd been cautious and apprehensive, still uncertain of what awaited her.

This time, there was no caution. The burlap sack over her shoulder had painted a big fat target on her back and if she didn't hightail it out of there, her first mission would have a painful, rather messy conclusion.

Winter flew through the hall like a bat out of hell. She dodged glass cases, skidded around corners, narrowly avoided a painful collision with a large slab of rose quartz. Blood roared in her ears, her breath turning to short gasps as a wave of shouts and pounding footfalls rose up behind her. The Razor Quills had given chase.

She hurtled through the exhibit entrance, past the two unconscious guards, and tore down the left hallway. She had to get out of sight. As soon as they followed her out, they'd have a clear shot at her. And indeed, no more than half a second after she rounded the next corner, she heard her pursuers emerge into the hall she'd just left behind, and the deafening _POW!_ of a gunshot ricocheted through the corridor.

Winter cried out, plowing into the wall. Thankfully, the golden dancing slippers seemed to be perfectly suited to sharp turns in close quarters, and in the blink of an eye she had got her footing back and was racing down the hallway again.

They had been careful not to use their firearms so far, she realized. The guards posted at the door hadn't drawn their pistols right away, and they'd brought an expert lockpick instead of shooting through the bolts on the jewel cases. But now, _now,_ they had shot at her. Oh, she was in such deep trouble.

"Circle around! She can't get far!"

She ran blindly, desperately, zigzagging through the maze of hallways and exhibits with no heed to stealth. Through the Jurassic exhibit and the leering skeletons of ancient monsters. Through the wildlife rooms, the eyes of taxidermied birds and wolves following her as she whipped past. Her lungs were on fire. She could feel them closing in on her like hunting dogs on a fox.

She streaked out of the dinosaur exhibit and down the next corridor. She was close to the staff room now; she'd be able to see it once she emerged into the lobby ahead. It had to be unlocked, the Razor Quills had to have broken inside to tie up all the guards –

She ran out of the corridor and plowed straight into Ladythief, who had been waiting for her around the corner. They toppled over together in a chorus of yells and snarling. Ladythief scrabbled for the burlap sack. Winter got a knee into the woman's stomach and shoved her away, clumsy but desperate enough to put some distance between them.

"I hear them!" came the distant shout of a man, followed by other angry voices.

Huffing for breath, Ladythief got to her feet and pulled out her gun, pointing it at Winter where she lay on the floor.

"Goodbye, miscreant," she snarled, clicking off the safety.

 _"Crescent Beam,"_ Winter screamed, and pointed straight into the woman's face. A _zing_ of electricity shot through her right arm as a beam of shining light pierced the woman's eyes. Ladythief shrieked in pain and the gun went off, the shot going wide. Winter rolled over and scrambled to her feet, stumbling to the staff room. She pushed the door open with trembling arms, threw herself inside and bolted it. Ladythief's agonized whine was audible even through the thick divide.

There had been a struggle here. The fabric of the couches was ripped, a couple of chairs turned over. Knife marks marred the polished wooden table where tour guides had lunch break together every day. But Winter, exhausted and delirious with fear, barely took any of that in before staggering to the telephone hanging on the wall, dropping the jewel sack and dialing 9-1-1 with numb fingers.

She cradled the phone to her ear and listened as it rung once, twice …

A man's disbelieving voice came from outside the door. "My God, what happened to you?"

"My eyes don't work!" Ladythief wailed.

"The girl, where is she? Where'd she go?"

"Nine one one. What's your emergency?"

"Burglary," Winter sobbed into the receiver. "Burglary at the museum. The Razor Quills –"

"I hear her, she's in there!"

"Tell me where you are," said the operator.

"The museum," Winter whispered. "New Beijing museum. They want the jewels. Please come, they're going to kill me."

A mighty _thump_ shook the door.

"The bitch locked it –"

"Po, get over here!"

Winter dropped the phone, grabbed the sackful of jewels and shot across the staff room to the opposite door – the door that led to the system of storage rooms and utility corridors that ran through the museum like veins and capillaries. She could disappear in there. Lose the Razor Quills. Hide out until the police arrived. With a last look over her shoulder – her pursuers were shouting outside the door, the lock rattling as somebody picked it open – she got the utility door open and plunged inside.

The corridor walls were drab gray concrete. She jogged along, turning left, right, left, left, right again, passing doors and storage shelves with every step. She hadn't the slightest idea where she was going. The passages would spit her out somewhere in the museum, but as long as she put distance between herself and the Razor Quills, she didn't care if she got lost.

It dark but for the weak light of utility lamps, giving the whole thing the quality of a nightmare. Terror and dread were the only things fueling her now. Her limbs were exhausted and slow, but she knew that if she stopped moving, if she paused for even a moment to catch her breath, she'd never be able to start running again.

She came upon a ladder that was little more than iron rails set into the wall. Glancing into the semi-darkness on either end of the corridor, Winter slung the sack over her shoulder and clambered up. At the top of the ladder was a trapdoor with no lock or chain. She planted one hand against it and heaved it open. A cloud of dust drifted into her face. Coughing, she climbed through the trapdoor as quietly as possible and eased it shut behind her.

Breathing hard, she looked around her. Judging by the smell and the faint outline of a mop in the corner, she was in a small janitor's closet. Maybe here, she could rest for a moment, let her heartbeat slow down a little. She put her head in her hands and took in a long, ragged breath.

 _It's okay. You're okay,_ she told herself. Her bare arms and legs were covered in dust, scrapes and bruises after her scuffle with Ladythief, but by some absurd miracle, her non-plan had worked, and she was still alive and bullet-free and had possession of the jewels. All that was left was to get out of here and hand them over to the police, preferably without getting arrested for the theft herself.

And to go home and give Artemis a piece of her mind. Where the hell was he, anyway?

No question, this had been the scariest, most hectic night of her life. If being an "agent of justice" meant going through even more of this, she wasn't sure she wanted it. Why hadn't that cat warned her about this? Given her some sort of abridged summary of where the Sailor Scout gig came from, what _magic_ she was using, and how on earth she was supposed to pull any of this off?

After a lot of feeling around the walls, she located the doorknob and eased it open. She peeked into the hallway beyond and was met with rows and rows of ancient Egyptian artifacts, hieroglyphs, slabs of limestone and regal cat statues that gazed at her through narrowed eyes. She was on the third floor.

Holding her breath, she slipped through. Silence pressed in all around her, turning to a static buzz in her ears. She tiptoed to the nearest stairwell, half-expecting black-clad gunmen to leap out at her from behind every glass case she walked past.

The stairwell was empty. She descended as quietly as possible, wincing as the heels of her slippers clicked on the tile steps. She made it down to the second-floor landing before she heard them – running footsteps, coming up the stairs below.

She didn't bother trying to be quiet or sneaky. If the police didn't arrive soon, she wouldn't last much longer anyway. She threw the second-floor door open and launched herself through.

An outraged shout rang out behind her, muffled by the stairwell door. "Oi, there she is!"

And Winter was running once more, racing through the maze of exhibits as the thieves burst out of the stairwell and gave chase, snarling at her heels. She couldn't tell how many there were – three, at the most, but it was enough. If she faltered for even a moment, they would fall upon her and she'd be dead.

She zoomed through the wildlife rooms and into the dinosaur exhibit, vaulting over the sandbox where kids dug for fake bones. The Razor Quills swerved in behind her, and a moment later, a telltale _click-click_ echoed through the room. She ducked under the belly of a raptor skeleton and leapt away just as the gunshot rang out. By wild chance, the bullet hit one of the skeleton's spindly supports and the bones collapsed into a heap behind her. Yells rang out as one of her pursuers slipped in the rattling mess.

With only seconds to spare, she ran out through the Rocks & Minerals corridor and swerved into the hallway that opened onto the second-floor balcony. This was her way out – the balcony divided into the east and west staircases down to the vestibule. Ahead, the unlit chandelier hung from the ceiling like a dead spider from its thread. The Razor Quills behind her fired at her heels. It occurred to her that as many cuts and bruises she'd accumulated tonight, it was a miracle that she hadn't been shot yet.

As she careened onto the balcony, the sack of pilfered gems still clutched in her hand, time seemed to pause mid-step and she saw everything all at once –

A black-clad figure with a knife in hand was rushing up the staircase to her left, another ready to intercept her on the staircase to the right. The others were all behind her, a pack of wolves closing in, only inches away.

She was surrounded.

But there was one way out left to her.

Winter ran faster, picking up speed until she was almost flying, her slippered feet barely touching the floor. And inwardly, she smiled.

Her classmates were right after all. She was as mad as a hare, as mad as a Hatter.

She leapt onto the balcony railing and, using it as a springboard, launched herself through the air. For a split second, she was suspended in midair, thirty feet off the ground, and then she collided with the chandelier and grabbed at the iron chain as it swung dangerously beneath her weight.

The Razor Quills drew up short on the balcony, each holding a gun. Winter clung to her perch, breathing hard. The strings of the burlap sack were wrapped tightly around her hand. She'd shattered most of the glass bulbs, and her bare legs were already covered in cuts. Blood ran in thin trickles down her skin.

Gasping, she risked taking one hand off the iron chain and grabbed the sack, positioning it in front of her.

"If you," she tried to shout, but she was too out of breath. She gulped and tried again: "If you shoot at me, you're gonna shoot them, too. Your precious jewels."

They exchanged glances as if to say, _worth the risk?_ Then the lithe, muscular man slid smoothly down the banister and jogged to a standstill directly beneath her, far down on the lobby floor.

"Drop it, sweetheart," he called up, smooth as honey. "We're not gonna shoot. Drop it and we won't hurt you."

The chandelier swayed to a standstill. Winter peered down, then at the three Razor Quills lined up on the balcony with their guns trained on her. Her hands were clammy with sweat and starting to slip on the iron chain.

She'd eluded their grasp thus far – just barely – but now she truly had no way out. The game was up. Drop the bag and she'd have failed her mission. Keep it and they would probably start shooting, jewels or no jewels. She was quite the sitting duck on this immobile lighting fixture.

One way or another, she was cooked.

All she could do was stall for time …

Slowly, she untangled the sack strings from her hand and lowered it until it hung above the leader's waiting arms.

And then her eyes snagged on the windows on either side of the museum's main entrance. The dark glass was flashing red-and-blue.

Gratitude and relief erupted within her and she released a laugh like a bell. The man beneath her glanced up and, eyes widening, spotted the telltale lights precisely half a second after she did, but it was half a second too late.

The sack of jewels landed in his outstretched arms, making him stagger, and distracting him for one more crucial moment –

Loud swearing broke out on the balcony as the Razor Quills caught on and scrambled away –

And the front doors slammed open, letting a dozen policemen pour through, bringing with them the crackling of radios and shouting and the wail of sirens. They swarmed the black-clad man with his guilty armful of stolen jewels and locked him into handcuffs, another half a dozen policemen racing into the museum to apprehend the others. Just like that, the heist was brought to an end. The jewels were secured, the police closer to catching the Razor Quills than they had ever been, and the museum guards would be liberated in a matter of minutes.

Winter, hanging thirty feet above it all, grinned to herself. She'd done it, she'd won! Her trial was over! Whatever else happened – whether the magic turned out to be a dream or a fluke – she had fulfilled her first mission as Sailor Venus, and all without having to fight anybody. She felt lightheaded with her own victory.

And then she remembered: _she wasn't supposed to be here._ She was in disguise. She was currently dangling thirty feet off the ground from a broken chandelier. What would they think when they saw her? She had to clear out now, before she was implicated in this whole mess.

But how was she to get down from here without calling for help?

Her eyes roved around the lobby and landed on the large blue banner hanging from the ceiling, near the main doors: DEEP SEA EXHIBIT; SEPTEMBER ONLY.

Oh, she _was_ crazy. Absolutely, irrefutably _mad._

She threw her weight forward on the chandelier, then backward, slowly gaining momentum. It was noisy enough with the sirens and the shouts of the police that no one paid attention to the creaking, swaying chandelier overhead.

Winter gritted her teeth and worked her makeshift trapeze until she was swinging swiftly back and forth through the air, to the balcony, to the banner, to the balcony –

"Up there!" someone shouted. A dozen flashlights suddenly found her, like spotlights in a circus act.

She counted herself in, and when the chandelier had carried her as close to the banner as possible, sprung off. She sailed through the air –

Her fingers grasped the rough fabric tightly and a heartbeat later, her weight ripped one end off its hook. A screech tore out of her throat as she swooped to the floor in a wide arc, carried by the banner, and hit the marble floor in an ungraceful heap.

**vi.**

Loud voices.

The shuffle of boots.

Wailing sirens in the distance.

"Miss? Miss, are you okay?"

"– that girl?"

"What is she doing here?"

"Give her some breathing space –"

Sprawled on the floor with her cheek on the cold marble, Winter listened to it all through a kind of dazed shock. She had not, in fact, lost consciousness, but there was a faint ringing in her ears and she feared that if she tried to get up, she'd topple over. The adrenaline had worn off, and so had the unusual energy she'd been granted by her transformation a few hours before. Her arms and legs stung with the cuts she'd gotten when she'd jumped on the chandelier. Her muscles ached as if she'd hiked up a very tall mountain.

The strain of the night was catching up to her. It wouldn't be much longer before she collapsed.

But she couldn't, not yet. She had to give the police the slip and go home before sunrise, before her dad came back –

Her _dad!_ Was he all right? In the race for her life, she'd completely forgotten about him and the other guards, tied up in the jewel chamber. Had he recognized her voice when she'd spoken to the Razor Quills? _"I'm confiscating your loot"_ – four words, but what if he knew it was her? 

She needed to leave as fast as possible.

Bruised, battered and completely exhausted, Winter made herself sit up and face the few policemen who'd encircled her, hands braced on their knees as they bent over her in concern. She must have looked more like an unfortunate witness to the crime than one of the thieves – just a damsel in distress.

Maybe Jacin was right. Maybe New Beijing's police force really did have its fair share of idiots.

"Miss," one said, "it's all right, you're safe. Can you tell us your name?"

Winter gave them an rueful smile and got to her feet, wincing.

"My name," she announced, "is Sailor Venus." It might have sounded more impressive if she hadn't been so weary. Her gaze swept the now-crowded vestibule, searching for a way out. "I'm also the one who called the police, so, you know …" She made an aimless gesture of the hand. "… you're welcome."

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen!"

The yowl drew the attention of every person in the room to the man addressing them all from the balcony. Only it wasn't a man – it was a cat with a snow-white pelt and eyes bright as grass after the rain, pacing on the banister with an air of authority.

"Will everyone please keep their eyes on me!"

Winter looked up, too. And when she caught sight of him, her heart leaped.

Artemis had come through, after all.

Exclamations of surprise and suspicion had risen up around her. "Is that cat …?" "Some kind of trick –"

She started to back away. The policemen who'd been talking to her were all staring upward, muttering in disbelief to one another.

"What's it doing?"

"– really talking! Pinch me, I swear I'm seeing things –"

Artemis tilted his head to the sky, and the crescent moon symbol between his ears began to glow an iridescent white. And he yowled –

_"Moon Twilight Flash!"_

The vestibule seemed to darken as, through the ceiling, rushed a stream of silvery light and reflected off the crescent moon. It was as though Artemis himself had become a mirror: white light blazed through the vestibule, making everyone inside it cry out and shield their eyes. For a few moments, it was shining brighter than day, and then –

Darkness fell as quickly as it had gone, leaving the policemen of New Beijing blinking and rubbing their eyes.

And when their vision returned to normal, they found that the girl in the peculiar outfit, the girl whose part in that night's fiasco remained unknown, had disappeared.

***~***

_Please review._


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